


Void-Walker

by RoseCompass



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-29 17:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11445978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseCompass/pseuds/RoseCompass
Summary: The Citadel of Light reigns over all of Illythia.  They have for as long as anyone can remember.  General Sariel, angel appointed by God, and his Blessed men protect the people from the Abcess, creatures created from the vilest parts of human interaction that spread chaos and disease.So, why were they watching me?  And, why did I have to die before they spoke?Nya Seven, errand girl extraordinaire, is hiding a bigger secret than she knows.  Now, with two of the strongest Blessed Men keeping tabs on her, what will she do?  Finding friends is trickier than she thought and making enemies is easier than she imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

“State your name”

“Nya Seven. Morass.”

The telecomm unit in front of me skipped for a few seconds before the video monitor continued speaking. 

“You are about the start Confession. This process is for the purging of anger, greed, hatred or any other emotion that would pollute the soul. Failure to disclose all information associated with these or any other negative emotion can result in bio-transition. Do you comply?”

“Yes. I understand.”

“Nya Seven, you may begin your confession”

I drew a deep breath. I had been doing this for so long, there was hardly a time when the confession box was not a part of my life. Still, it was always so very weird that inside this little tin tube was the only place in all of Illythia that was completely silent. The dull hum of the video monitor, the nasally pre-recorded voice of the AI on screen, and the sound of my pounding heart made the small space feel so much. . . More. But, then again, it was so much more than a a small quiet space. Confession was a mandatory ritual that every citizen under the protection of Ordinum Lux had to undergo every seven days. It was so deeply ingrained in our society that upon birth, the second name granted children was the day of Confession and Sanctification. Mine was Seven, a holy number and prized because it also coincided with the religious day of old, Sunday. I was not so certain seven was my lucky number, though. I bowed my head, and looked at my folded hands sitting on top of my lap. The thoughts in my head seemed to be running a mile a minute. Each time I did this, it got a little harder to stay calm. The thoughts in my head racing and whispering ‘how long? How long before they figure ou-’

A clang resonated though the booth as I was mid-panic. I heard the muffled sound of the speakers attached to the outside recite the obligatory warning about damaging the Order’s property. Thankfully, the few seconds of system preoccupation allowed me enough time to collect myself and begin. 

“I am Nya Seven. I am from Morass, and it has been 7 days since my last confession.”

“Greetings. What evils have you encountered in these times?”

I took a deep breath. This part was always hard for me. I looked down as I began, because the unblinking video eyes staring at me while I knelt seemed too much like an interrogation. My thumbs twiddled for half a second as I made the last shred of myself resign to the decision again. Just like last week, and the week before, and every week since. The repeated phrase slipped across my mind for a second, ‘It is not my sin’ and I steeled myself. 

“I have encountered the evil of Envy, and I carry it with me. I have looked upon my neighbor and wanted their life so much more than my own. They do not have the burdens I face on a daily basis.”

“Nya Seven” the distorted mechanical voice began “Our burdens make us stronger.”

“But, what if I don’t want to be strong?” I whispered. The mic picked it up with no problem.

“You have no choice. Each person is strong, not for themselves, but for the betterment and sustainability of Illythia.” The pre-recorded phrase sounded so final coming through the speakers overhead. 

“I understand.”

“What evils have you encountered?” The recording started the cycle again.

“I have encountered the evil of Greed, and I carry it with me. I have been selfish and wanted more than I have”

“Greed will destroy what we have built, Nya Seven. Each man has his place, and each man should place value in his station for us to survive.”

“I understand.” I said again, seeing no new incite into these phrases than I have a thousand times. The words have made me numb, and if I was not careful, I would mouth along with the audio. I sighed, as the recording started again.

“What evils have you encountered?”

“I have encountered Wrath, and I carry it with me. I have hated my fellow man for slights against me.”

“Wrath will only breed hate. Hate will tear Illythia apart. Tear out the seed before it grows, or you will destroy all you love.”

“I understand.”

“What evils have you encountered?” I hesitated. My heart beat pumped furiously behind my ears and my breathing became shallow. The small space of the confessional tube seemed so cramped. My eyes squeezed shut, and I was about to continue a more honest confession, but the words I had repeated for so long remained. ‘It is not my sin.’ I exhaled and relaxed into it.  
Raising my eyes for the first time since I began to the video monitor, I set my jaw and slowed my breathing. My pulse would not slow until this ordeal was over. . . At least this week’s.

“I have encountered no more evils than these.” The rhetoric passed through my lips like a prayer utter too often.

“Nya Seven, Morass resident, by the order of Ordinum Lux, cast these evils from you. Carry not the Abcess into this world, or destroy that which remains. Heed our warning, and hold close our lessons. Be, once more, a child of the order and live in service of light. Do you commit yourself anew to this?”

“I do.”

“Do you forsake the evils and confess all of them here today, purging the Abcess you carry?”  
My heart skipped a beat, “I do” came out before I could rethink it. Thank God for habits.

“Do you embrace the teachings of Ordinum Lux, and embody them in all you do?”

“I do.”

“Three times you have promised. This is not a thing to be taken in shadow or deceit. May you travel in the Light, and resist all darkness. You are free once more.”  
The air left me so quickly at those words. I had made it through another confession, but the tension in my chest would take longer to go away. I may have been used to it, but each week it was still a struggle. How long had I kept that secret? I shook the thought off as the video monitor and audio cut out. The seal on the door released and my knees ached as I rose from them. Steel floors were not comfortable for kneeling, but the eyes of those ‘proctors’ were so much worse. 

I smoothed out my dress as best I could, before pushing out of the box. The creak it made caused a few people to look at me, but most just went about their day. Confessions were common; necessary. The fear of hat would happen if it were not done was too strong in everyone I knew. So many nightmares were spawned for it, no one chanced it. Bio-transition. I scoffed a little bit at the idea as I made my way through the streets. The worn black tar road was so very familiar to my feet, that my mind could drift. 

The sun was beginning to set, bathing the ramshackle dwellings and row houses with poorly thatched roofs in red light. I knew that there was curfew to think of, and the sun would be down quicker than I would like, but I could not help it. I had to make that last stop, if only for a minute. 

It was tradition. I moved as fast as I could without drawing attention from anyone. The last thing I needed was someone reporting me to the Smiling Men for an attempted curfew break (let alone, a real one). I weaved in and out of the row houses and eventually found myself staring at a small building tucked back into a corner in the alley leading to a dock no one ever used. No one normally came here. It was a place only the locals of the water district knew about. It was not easy to get to, the alley being almost too narrow for a small man to fit though, and never two people at once, but it opened up at the end. Enough, anyway, for a small red box to be mounted in an alcove. 

It was covered in silks and glass beads, and inside were several small candles that never seemed to burn away. Each time I came here, the lowest candles from the week before were replaced with new. Someone was faithful to something other than the order. I was very thankful for that. It let me have this secret place that, while not any larger than the confession tube, felt like the world in these moments. It felt like I was taking a small thing back from the world, when it demand so much from me. I knelt at the small shrine. It came to eye level when on my knees. 

The small dots of red and white rained from the hanging beads, and shone like stars on the symbol there. I could not read it, but that never seemed to matter. I felt it. It was warm, and calm, and filled with love. . .and sorrow. It was like remembering a long cherished moment. Or, at least it was to me. I looked up at the sky, the red giving way to dark imperial blues and soft smoky grey. The corner of my lips lifted in a sad smile.

“I wish you could see this, Dad. It is beautiful.” Turning my attention to the shrine, I touched the symbol. It was warm on my fingertips. I traced its edged as I continued. “I am okay. I kept it a secret for another week. I don’t know why. I just. . .I felt. . . I can’t explain, but I don’t want them to know. I am doing well, though. I am don’t hide anything else besides that. . .except, I guess, seeing you. . .and work. Heh, I guess I am hiding a lot.” I hung my head as my eyes welled up. 

It did not happen often anymore, but sometimes, “I miss you, Dad. I don’t understand why they wanted to take away the memories of the dead. I know they say it is to purge pain and lessen the Abcess, but I still feel pain. I feel so lost and I need you. Dad, what do I do? I can’t take hiding all of this forever.” I wept. I had not in so very long, and the weight of all of this was so heavy. I wept until there were no more tears to weep, and I struck a match. 

“May you travel in the light, and resist all darkness. You are free, Dad. Finally free.” I recited the send off I had heard a million times as I lit one of the candles in the shrine. They were always special. They never quite burned in the same way ordinary candles did, no orange or yellow. 

The flame was red and black, and smelled like sugar and tar mixed. It danced in front of the symbol and cast its light on the walls of the shrine. The silks took on a new beauty with the candle as their only light source. . . 

ONLY LIGHT SOURCE?!?! I whipped my head up. It was dark. There was no red other than the light from the shrine, and I was out past curfew. How long had I been here, among the spirits of the dead? I needed to hurry. I had seen the sentences of a Smiling Man, and I did not want to be involved in any way. I stood up from my knees, not missing the dull throb where the blood rushed back. I dusted myself off, and with one last look at the flickering light and the shrine, I squeezed my way back through the narrow alleyway.

The rough cement bricks dug into my exposed arms and calves as I pressed my way through. The space felt like a hindrance to my swift pace, and became more difficult the closer I got to the entrance of the alley. It was nothing more than a fissure of fallen stone, as it had collapsed some years before. I came to it far slower than I wanted, but I was not such a fool to leave the safety of the alley without first chancing a glance out. I edged my way to the opening. My arms braced on the top of the fissure as I leaned out. My head barely passed entrance when the glint of the gas light head came into view. 

The foul sound of the whir and grind of gears echoed across the cement houses, making the arrival of the great mechanical men seem so much more terrifying. . . Or maybe exactly as terrifying as they should be. I darted my head back into the tiny space, and pressed myself as flat as I could against the cement blocks. The pounding of my heart reaching my ears and seeming so loud against the quiet night and hydraulic whir drawing near. My eyes welled and a hitch in my throat made me purse my lips and squeeze my eyes shut. The steps of the Smiling Man came closer and closer, and all I could do was stay perfectly still and hope he passed me by. 

The clang of each foot fall sent a shiver down my spine, and my knees trembled, but I did not move. I waited. The sounds grew louder and then just stopped. I waited. I waited. I waited, and when I heard no more whirs and clangs and tamps as mechanical legs moved and metal feet hit road, I opened my eyes just a crack. I shifted my position to glance at the opening of the alleyway, and slapped a hand over my mouth to keep in the horrified noise as I saw the legs of the mechanical man were stopped right in front of the fissure. The sound of flesh on flesh contact was deafening to me. The legs about faced and the toes were pointed at me now. I tried to shuffle back. A great metal hand, bronze fingers and a gear socket wrist reached into the fissure. I scrambled to stay away, and my foot caught on some unfortunately placed rubble, causing me to lose my balance and topple onto my butt. 

I gasped as I made contact with the ground, my hand falling away from my lips. My eyes shut up and out of the fissure to the cruel face of the Smiling Man, aptly named for the white ceramic mask that covered the lower half of its face, a curved and cruel smile forever present there. The bronze hand reached out for me and lowered now to reach my foot and drag me out. I inhaled, ready to scream and fight on the off chance anyone would join me against the Order’s mechanical enforcer. I knew it was in vain, but it is really hard to fight instinct. I waited for the hand to connect and drag me out, but it never came. I backed up until I was wedged between a wall and a pile of broken cement blocks. The scream dying on my lips. Instead, the sound in the night was the voice of a man. It was short, and brusk, and barked a command that the Smiling Man hesitated at, looked at me once more, and then retreated after receiving. 

Thankfully, the Handler’s commands superseded anything the Smiling Man wanted, saw or would do, but I was also acutely aware that had I not gotten lucky, the mechanical guard would have had me in his hands. I did not move until I heard the last fading visage of the Smiling Man and his handler retreat. By that time, the sky had lost all color and the streets were pitch black. I left the alley and made my way to work. Hopefully, the path there would be uneventful.


	2. Chapter 2

In the Morass, there were many ways to get around the Overseers. The most effective, but uncommon way was money. It was as if, instead of protecting the people or upholding order, they were charged with collecting the coin to pave the golden streets of heaven themselves. Unfortunately, there was not a lot of extra coin to go around. Most people who needed a thing done or found or pass along, used Errand Boys. Errand Boys never really trafficked in truly illegal wares. However, the grey area merchandise, like unregulated medicinal or recreational herbs, the passing of contraband letters from on district to another or the procurement of backwater hooch was always a popular choice. Really, Errand Boys specialized in any area as long as it was only frowned upon, and not outright forbidden by Ordinum Lux. After all, with the constant presence of Ordinum Lux in the Morass, there were somethings that could not be bought in the market. In fact, the Errand Boys were so used by the people for any and all unconventional needs that they were almost a part of the tapestry of life in the Morass. Like every cut purse, or favor girl, but ultimately with a bit more respect at the end of the day. 

Respect, however, was not something I received often here in the Morass. I was used to it. There was something to be said for being reliable in a trade, but even that would not redeem me. The wet smack of my shoes against the cobblestone streets sounded louder than it was as I made my way to work. There was not much I could do about the sun being down, or about me being late, but there was everything I could do not to get caught by the Smiling Men. I had cut it close at the altar. I was watching my blinds much more closely since I gave that mechanical man the slip. The sounds on the streets were as if no one lived in this part of the district, a fact I knew to be false, as I lived only a few streets over. But, like all other citizens, the sun went down, and curfew had set in and no one liked to draw unwanted attention. We in the Morass learn early on how to make ourselves scarce. I slipped into the shadows cast by the row houses that ran parallel to the dock. Small plumes of white mist rose from my lips and drifted away. The night air bit at my ears and nose making them flush with blood. The closer one got to the shore, the colder it became. The houses that backed to the docks were always the poorest, and draftiest. It was like the wind bit through them and the holes were never patched. I did not mind it often, but tonight it set me on edge. The mist filtered across the street and I did my best imitation of a ghost as I passed through it, conscious of the sounds my huffing chest and wet shoes were making. 

I cut through the boardwalk as I made my way to the bridge. It was a big hulking structure that collapsed into the sea sometime after the last war, and no one ever really paid attention too. It was nothing but concrete and steel twisted and mangled until the sea covered it from sight. The teachers at school used to say that it was something the order left there to remind us of our own propensity for destruction. I think they may have been right, but they were very wrong as well. In the wake of this destruction, and years later, the people of the Morass began to gather. And, like cross sea faring folk are want to do, we gathered at the place that reminded us of loss. It is there that the citizens of the Morass built a sanctuary. From that death, the water district created life. Night life. 

The Last Circle was in one of the maintenance tunnels that started in the left pylon, closest to shore, and ran until the start of the collapse (which has been blocked off from people because we may be reckless, but not stupid and few want to go to a watery grave before it is their time). It was a big cylinder that connected to what would best be described as a long, wide hallway with a few smaller rooms for storage and electrical stuff that no longer worked, but looked neat enough. From there, a bar was added, seating and candles to light the way of anyone seeking refuge from the bitter life found outside. Most people lay claim to the bar in their own way, having either stocked it, or crafted something, or just been there enough to see the times change inside its walls, but few could lay claim like or challenge Harless.

I slipped into the bar, the heavy iron door moving soundlessly on its hinges. The Last Circle was never locked at night, too many people gathered here for a drink or more to do so. It was the last sanctuary in a dying wharf. It was a reprieve. A small flicker of light in a dark time for the Morass. And, because of that, it was always hopping. I had no issue moving the door, it was well worked over by excessive use. The crowd inside did not pay a bit of attention to me. Most of the figures were shapely shadows at best here, in the dimly flickering light. I scanned the bar. Everyone was lively and games of chance were abundant. Anyone not playing was talking or laughing in good company. The patrons, despite the low level of light, did not have to keep quiet here. The concrete walls kept any noises from the outside world. Here, people let loose. Unfortunately, there were some vices more unpleasant than others. 

Favor girls were common in the Last Circle. Most were orphans freshly grown and without a means to survive. Some were widows. Few truly enjoyed their profession, but saw it as a necessary evil. No matter, they clung to the bar after dark, with sweet smiles and hollow eyes. Some were familiar faces after a while, and some were one offs. There were always a few Favor girls on any given night, and tonight it was Kes and Adran’s turn to pull tricks. 

Kes was a older woman, old to the Morass, and old to the trade. Very little surprised her, but she also knew the way of things. For her to keep working, she had to make sure the arrangement worked for everyone. Namely, this meant acting right in the bar. Adran’s tactics were not as subtle. She sat at the bar and sulked at the slim picking of patrons. Most she had either already had, or had already turned her down. The first she took as a mark of pride; the latter served only to sour her already poor mood. Where Kes was an old show pony, Adran was the young mare who’d throw you everytime you trusted it. Her name had quickly become synonymous with drama, and no one needed that. 

I ducked into the booth on the far left. It was close enough to the door to partially obscure me in the low light, and yet also afford me a clear view of the shadow I knew to be Harless. Unfortunately for me, he seemed to be busy with a different person shaped blob and it seemed like it would be a few minutes before he noticed me. Nothing seemed to get past him. I like to imagine it was some freaky super power, but a small part of me whispered that it was because he commissioned me often enough to know my habits. Even me being late did not seem to phase him. 

While other Errand boys could afford a wide variety of clientele, the first and only errand girl could easily be mistaken for a Favor girl and commissioned as such. I knew I had to be smarter than the average man and choose my clients with extreme caution. There was one unspoke rule in the Morass, and among Errand Boys, don’t welch on a contract. So, that left me to be a thousand times pickier on who I dealt with, not just what. Harless was safe, consistent, and more often than not, kind to me on deals. He asked for only what was needed and paid well enough to keep a roof over my head (all be it, drafty) and some time of food in my stomach. For that, I was very fortunate. Had it not been for Harless, I would be turning tricks right there beside Adran. . . I was unfortunate in that, she knew it too. 

The case with Adran is the case with most people. Instead of bettering themselves, they just try to tear other people down to their level. She sauntered her way over, cruel smile twisting her lips and sharpening her tongue to do just that. The dim candle light flickered off of the whites of her eyes, and it was obvious that she was a few drinks into her night. The slow, measured saunter of a street worker came as second nature to her, and she saddled herself up beside my table. I bit out a greeting, to not make the situation worse, and hung my head. I fiddled with the contents of my pockets to look busy. She was not buying it. 

“Oh girl, slow night for you too?” She cooed, soldering on despite my lack of interest in her presence. 

“About the same as every night.”

“Heh, yes, I imagine that there aren’t many who would bother with a second rate errand boy. Too bad you never really measured up to our standards” Adran hissed, a clear jab at my weight. I was not a petite girl by any means. Food may have been hard to come by and full of the wrong stuff when it was, but my family was always a little wider than the average woman, and curves don’t look so well in rucksacks and trousers. I had already heard the jokes, she was going to need new material soon.

“That is a shame.” I said through tight lips. The sooner this was over the better. 

Adran’s eyes twinkled with mirth as she leaned down. Her breath wafting around me, a mixture of mint root and cheap liquor meeting my nose, and grinned. “I bet that doesn’t really matter to Capt. Harless though, what with this place being so dark.”

I slammed a hand down onto the table and stood up. The chair rocketed out behind me and toppled over. It brought every eye in the place to me and I hated my reaction immediately. I blushed in embarrassment. My head ducked as I backed away to retrieve my chair. Harless was thrice my age, and never treated me as anything but an employee, even if that term loosely applied to me. The searing heat at Adran implying something like that sat heavy on my chest. I righted my seat and took it again. I did not duck away from her this time. I looked her dead in the eye. Her shit eating grin plastered from ear to ear on her face, and a puffed up sense of accomplishment because she got a rise out of me. 

“Don’t underestimate the value of the dark, I imagine that is why you are so popular. . . Excuse me, were.” I said. I knew it was stupid, but there was very few instances where Adran was not all bark and the anger was still hot in my veins. I got the desired result. Her face twisted up into a scowl and her body was lunging for me before I could react. She was a slight thing, but she was always the first to lose it and that made her hair trigger temper dangerous. I just did not notice that she would retaliate with actions instead of words this time. Thankfully, Harless had finished with the other person and was at my table in the nick of time. He caught Adran by the arm and pulled her off balance so she would have to grab onto him to stay up. She met him and immediately plastered a smile on that was so sweet my stomach turned. 

“Ah, Captain, I was just remarking to our girl here that it was a slow night.” She purred, pretending that she was not apparently going to claw my eyes out just then. 

“Indeed, but it would be even slower out on the street. So, do me a favor and behave.”

“Of course,” She smiled at him, her eyes drifting to the door and seeing another man walk in. “I would never think of disturbing your business here, after all, what harm could little old me really do?” She turned to me, last vestiges of the sneer on her face and sauntered off as if this never happened. Harless let her go and watched as she moved through the crowded space to the newcomer. He hefted a sigh off his breast and settled in the chair across from me. 

“You are a trying girl sometimes.” He said, but there was the ghost of a grin on his face.

“She started it.” I pouted. I really did not like the idea of being looked at like a child. I was sixteen and basically on my own. The voice in the back of my head was telling me it was more than that, I did not like Harless looking at me like I had messed up. 

“Yes, but I ended it. Favor girls are a different breed than you or I. They get what they want by any means, and don’t like the people who point out their shortcomings. You would do well to just bow out of a fight with them, for both our sakes.”

I did not reply. Harless was many things to me, but I knew an order when I heard one, even if he phrased it nicely. Captain Harless took the Last Circle’s covenant very seriously. This place was neutral ground. There was to be no violence here, and I was just as much to blame as the person throwing the punches because I egged them on. He enforced this with the same militaristic mindset as he had when he was part of Ordinem Lux, without mercy. This time, he was giving me and Adran a warning. I did not want to have a next time. 

I hung my hat a bit to shield my eyes from him as he sparked a match to light his pipe. The light in this dark space was piercing. He puffed a few times. The scent of clove wafted through the air. He cleared his throat quickly and looked at me.

“There is not much I need from you this week. It is almost the time of Masses, and very few people need herb or shine right now. Getting their souls right with God. Strange that, seems like wasting time when I know I will just see them all here before the month’s end. Booze and bodies have a way of tempting a man back from all manner of religion. It is the way of things.” His gaze drifted to Kes. He was not a man to partake of the wares the Favor girls peddles, but he often remarked that occasionally he enjoyed the view. “So, no need for you to scavenge on my behalf this time.”

My brow furrowed. Had he really called me here to tell me I had the week off? That run through the night seemed a bit more effort than was needed today then. Nothing was going right for me at the moment, and it seemed that without Harless’ contract this week, I would be going hungry. I moved to get up from my seat.

“Not so fast.” He stopped me, hand lifted to give the silent command to stay seated. “I said not much, there is still one thing.” He riffled in his breast pocket, the inside of his vest flashing red satin in the candle light. It took him a minute to free that paper, but it came away from him, pristine and white and sealed with a red wax crest that I could not make out in the bar. “I need you to deliver this for me.” He said, handing it over. 

My fingers brushed along the pearl white edges of the paper. IT was the finest piece of parchment I had ever seen. This stationary should have belonged to someone who lived in SeaSide or at the very least a wealthy man of Harbor, but it did not. It was here, in the dingy bar at the far edges of the Morass. It must have been from better days. I looked at him. Something that looked like this would draw attention, and was probably very important. It seemed odd to give something so official looking to me. 

“Why—”

“Trust it to you? Reasons, none of which concern you. Do you want the contract or not? It is the only one for a while.” His gaze never left his pipe as he repacked it and struck another match. I don’t believe for a second that he thought I would turn it down. I scooped the letter up off the table and slid it into my bosom. Being well endowed had its perks sometimes, may as well use them. He raised an eyebrow, but did not comment. 

“Take it to the edge of the Fen, there will be a man there by the name of —”

“The FEN?!” I gasped out. That was a place no man wanted to go, and no errand boy would dare travel to. It may be Harless’ only contract this week, but it was a stupid bet. He must of sensed my immanent refusal when he continued.

“The EDGE of the Fen. You don’t need to go in, but get near to the border. Someone else will take it the rest of the way. He is called Saven and I trust him well enough not to drag you anywhere you should not be. Don’t need your death on my conscious.” 

I sat there for a minute. It would be so easy to drop the letter here and walk out, but that means not eating this week. It means not having the coins to pay for the drafty little loft I call home. I means struggling. I had done that long enough. I had made something of a life now, and I had consistency in it. THe Fen may have been a bad bet, but I knew Harless, and he was not. I nodded once. He bit the tip of his pipe to keep it in his mouth and sat a small purse on the table as he rose. It was not there when he fully stood and walked away. I cast one look at the bar, Kes was in the corner with two young men, but Adran was gone and Harless was already back in his spot dealing shine to those who could pay. I slipped out just as quietly as I came in.

The big steel door gave way as silently as it had when I entered the Last Circle, and I slipped into the night without looking back. The cold night air nipped at my nose, and the clatter of frozen sea could be heard a bit of a ways off. But, there was no gears whirring. There was no tell tale boot taps on the concrete. I took in a hearty lung full of night air, enjoying the faint taste of salt on my lips. It was not often a girl from the Morass made it to the sea, and this is as close as I will ever get to the ocean proper. This broken bridge at the far corner of the safe zone. The ships may travel the same waters, but this point was as far as absolutely possible from the real, clean beautiful ocean the rich enjoyed. This was a different world, and I knew not to get too lost in the night. 

Mom always said that monsters walked among us. They prowled the night, riding in on wisps and mist from the darkest depths of the sea. Mom said not to linger. Mom was crazier than most people in the Morass. She was also right. What she never said was that these monsters wore the flesh of man, or at least one did. That man was Overseer Jarn. A plump, balding, late age man with a penchant for being in just the right place at just the right time. Sadly, he also had a weak spot for pretty faces and when all the coin in his pockets had run off, he found the way to warm his cock was in providing more violent services. He was not always a servant of the Order. He never really forgot his old life, and being an overseers just afforded him more freedoms to continue it. He was grease and wickedness in a white coat.

I registered his presence at my back a moment too late. The beams that had fallen from the bridge made excellent pathways back to the main road, and they were excellent because they were almost completely covered in shadows. This kept the Smiling Men from seeing you, and every local used them if they departed before the sun rose. Overseer Jarn was familiar with this more than most holy men, as he used them almost nightly. His visits to the Last Circle were generally to extort protection money from the locals so they ‘were not caught defying curfew’ and visiting a pretty face. Unfortunately for me, that face was Adran. Seemed that business was slow all around, and a knife in my back was better than a coin in her pocket. 

He was on me in an instant. Thick hairy arms wrapped around my throat and no air in my lungs. I flailed. I elbowed and kicked, trying to break his grip on my airway. The jostling only tightened his hold more. I reached my hand back, and my fingers wrapped themselves in what little oily hair he had left. I ripped with all the fight in me. He let out a howl. His grip slacked just enough to duck out of it, and in a flash I was running. The swear that left his lips echoed through the night, and the huffing breath resounded off the steel structures, carrying farther than either of us needed. It did not matter, however. I was too lost in moving my legs faster and weaving in and out of whatever I could to lose him. My eyes were focused on the street just ahead, my field of vision narrowing down to that goal. I thought I had as I neared the main road, and moved to climb up onto it when he let out a shout. I slipped off the concrete cylinder and landed in the frigid water that it was halfway submerged in. The platform that connect to the lip of the street just above my head, and the man who attacked me just behind. I reached up to climb the platoe when I figured out why he was yelling. The sound of gears met my hears. Whir, clunk. Whir, clunk. Whir, clunk. The footsteps of the most vicious enforcers were getting louder. The footsteps of Jarn were getting louder. The beating of my heart was getting louder. I needed to get away from this. I swung a hand onto the ledge, but my fingers were wet and cold and I was so much heavier than I remembered. I tried to haul myself up, but my fingers slipped at the last moment. 

A mechanical hand caught me by the arm and lifted me up by it. I was suspended three feet above the ground, and staring at soulless eyes. The socket of my arm stretched itself too far as all my weight dangled from it. The one attempt I made to swing free from the arm holding me was met with a sickening suck, pop, and a stab of pain that made me want to cry out, but I held my tongue. The slight whimper that did slip out was covered by the sound of Overseer Jarn huffing his way onto the street. The grin on his face was sickening, but quickly faded as the Smiling Man and his handler turned to him.

“What is the meaning of this, Overseer?”

“Heh—ho—I caught this one—ho—out after curf—ho.” He leaned over, clearly out of breath from his malicious exercises. 

“I can see that. I meant, why were you chasing her across that debris?”

It was here my heart sank. If he spoke the truth, a lot of people would suffer. Harless would suffer. I may not have been self sacrificing, but I had already run into the trap. The rest of the people did not need to meet the same end. Especially those who had been good to me. The fear must have been obvious, because he licked his wind chapped lips and smiled. 

“She thought she could lose me in that. I ain’t as soft as I look though.” His ego puffed up a bit, but the handler just gave him a bored look and turned to me.

“Where are you going girl?” His face was stern as he asked. I said nothing. “Cooperate and your sentence will be light. Where were you headed at this time of night?” I bit my lip. The throbbing in my arm was making my eyes water. My heart beat was erratic, and Jarn had not stopped grinning. 

“Maybe she was seeing someone. Maybe a whole lot of someones.” Jarn piped in, evil twinkle in his eye telling me that he would use whatever he needed to against me. Even his favorite speakeasy. He sidled up to me, his chubby fingers gripping my chin and turning my face left then right, pretending to appraise me for the Handler. His grin turned toothy as he continued. “She isn’t half bad, if truth be told. Maybe she works.” His grin grew. He had one more nail left to put in my coffin. “I bet her haunt is nearby.”

I thrashed, ignoring my arm and spit right in Overseer Jarn’s fat face. My anger blocking out all pain, and my mouth moving before I knew the words. “The only whore here is YO—!” I started. I did not get to finish. A great mechanical hand wrapped itself around my wind pipe and crushed. The wheeze that escaped me rattled in my throat and my body was dropped with a thud, knocking any remaining air out of my lungs. I could not draw breath. My head connected with the cobblestone. My chest heaved and spasmed. I heard the voices of Overseer and Handler. Neither made a move to help or seek assistance. The great mechanical man relaxed its arm and stood motionless and unseeing. 

“Well,” The Handler started, “A name would have made my paperwork easier. Because of you, Overseer, I now have to file a report of execution for assault on a member of Ordinem Lux.” He sighed, pulling out a notebook and jotting a few notes in it, he turned to Jarn.

“But, you have my thanks. After all, disrespect a member of the order, and you disrespect the order itself.” Jarn shrugged gleefully. No matter how it happened, I was going to die, and that is the result he wanted. That meant he would get his ass, and keep his coins. Adran and Jarn were made for each other, and would use each other until there was nothing left in their world but rot and bile. He looked down at my body. It spasmed and twitch and tears ran down my face as the last of my life’s breath bled out. The Handler looked less amused.

“Yes. The report will be finished by this time tomorrow. I expect you to review and corroborate the necessary parts.” He spoke, turning to his notes once more. 

“Of course.”

The Handler turned to leave. The Smiling Man following in his wake like a dog on a leash when Jarn cleared his throat. The man looked back. “What do we do with her body?”

“That, Overseer, is not my problem.” They turned and resumed their patrol. Jarn swore. He was not happy. He thought he would get away with doing nothing and still get his dick wet. Oh well, he thought. She is already wet, may as well kick her back in. A leg came into forceful contact with my stomach and I was pushed off of the platform and back into the icy water. My tears mixing with the salt water as it filled my nose and mouth. Jarn waved me off, and headed back to claim his prize. My world shrank down to a point of light. A point of light smothered out by cold, dark water. I didn’t even feel when I hit the bottom.


	3. Chapter 3

The long inhale lit the cherry at the end of the clove cigarette that rested between the lips of the black haired, lava eyed man. He removed the pungent cancer stick from between his lips and flicked the ash. As his eyes glanced over at the young woman on the ground, he opened his mouth to let the smoke waft out almost like a mist rising up from the darkest part of his soul. His eyes never left the dead girl. 

"Shame, don't you think?" the shadowy man heard his companion say. The lava eyed man looked up at the sound of the words, his deep red eyes betraying nothing of the anger he felt at the girl. His company decided to take it as confusion, and elaborated. "Yea, to die so young and at the hands of a man like that. . . what a waste of a good life." The shorter silver man continued, if only to break the silence.

'What a waste, indeed.' thought the smoker. 'To die, just because you pissed off the wrong whore.' He inhaled again, cherry coming ever closer to his fingers. He sat back, and tore his eyes off the corpse. He leaned his head against the brick of the alleyway and eThaled. The nicotine coursing through his veins and easing some of the stress from what was about to happen. He flicked his ash, and directed his eyes to the stars. They were not visible from the alleyway, drowned out by all the light pollution of the city. So many things man had interfered with, and now, in this moment, they would take the stars from him. He closed his eyes.

The silver haired man huffed and went to eTtol on the virtues of long lives and the tragedy of lost youth. Most days, the darker man could ignore his lighter counterpart, but something felt different about today. Something that him on edge. He puffed on his cigarette one last time and flicked it into the alleyway. He tried to savor the last traces of nicotine in the smoke and center himself. However, any peace he would have found was disrupted by the constant chatter of the silver-haired boy at the end of the alley. And, to make matters worse, he was now looking at the darker man for input in the conversation. 

Amber eyes stared into lava ones eTpectantly. The dark man kept his silence. He started to turn away and find the ever elusive calm when the silver boy repeated his question. 

"I said, don't you think that it's sad when the young die, V?" enunciated the boy, hoping that the directness of the question would pull the man into talking. 

V, the silent dark smoker staring at the stars, could only sigh and rub his eyes. To see the world in black and white was not a power he possessed any longer and to be saddled with the boyish naivety of the silver spot of joy every time Ordinem LuT thought they were on to something special, it was honestly becoming to much to tolerate. When the younger man opened his mouth to ask the question a third time, he was cut off by the irritated tone of V snapping back, "IT IS HER OWN DAMN FAULT, AND BECAUSE SHE WAS SO PIG HEADED, SHE DESERVES WHAT SHE GOT!" 

The silver boy shut his mouth immediately, and looked at V. He sighed and glanced at the body laying between them on the pavement, but didn't look long. He cast his gaze, instead, into the street and allowed the silence between them to stretch out. The weight of it pressing down on them both. Both men were determined not to be the first to speak again. The silver boy because of shame, and V because of misplaced pride. However, as the minutes continued to tick by and the boy did not speak again, V's resolve wavered. He glanced over at his companion. The child was huddled against the wall, eyes cast away from V.

V sighed as he reached into his pocket to retrieve another clove. He tapped on out of the pack and lit it, immediately taking a long drag and holding it. The eThale was caught by the wind and carried to the boy's nose. The younger of the two waved it away. V knew S hated the smell, and that had never stopped him from indulging before. S was young, naïve, and ineTcusably loyal to Ordinem LuT. S also happened to be the best Searcher in the history of the organization. V was immediately partnered with him after he completed training. That was many years ago, and yet V had never seen fit to let the boy get to know him; just like V had never bothered to get to know the boy. All V cared about was that S was good at his job, and otherwise stayed out of his way. Ordinem LuT stayed off their backs and they got to enjoy the small modicum of freedom the higher ups saw fit to grant them. A pack of clove cigarettes, and V would sell his soul. He wondered when it had become so cheap.

He finished this cigarette and flicked it, just like the last. S still staring into the street, V went to make his apology if only to continue the work flow they had together, when S shifted. The previous spat already forgotten as S wheeled around and looked at the darker man. A smile cracked the boy's face as he spun back around and offered a yell and a wave to the invisible company. V reached forward and covered his mouth with his hand and hissed into his hear, "Quiet. Do you want us to get caught with a dead girl's body and no eTplanation?" S shook his head vigorously against the hand silencing him. 

"I'm sorry, just we haven't seen T or J in FOOOORRREEEEEVVVVVEEERRRR! I hope they are ok. I want T to teach me that new card trick he showed me last time, and J said he would give me the next book in my series if I behaved." The boy chittered on merrily. V vaguely wondered if he would have treated him like that if he had bothered to give him the time of day. Then, he remembered that he didn't care one way or the other and barked at the kid to keep it down.

S was so antsy waiting, he began to bounce up and down on his toes. Out in the street, two shapes started to come into view. V grit his teeth. As much as S loved them, he hated them. J was always judgmental, but that was expected considering he was Judgment. Type casting V could handle, but T. T was different. T was odd. T made V's hair stand on end and his skin crawl. 

T was the fail safe if V chose poorly. He was the mess cleaner. He was the silencer. He was T, the Executioner. T was the Interrogator for Ordinum lux, hence his place in the ranks. V never understood why T chose that profession in the line up. Most ran screaming from it or showed acceptable distaste. T just accepted the dirtiest job in all of Illythia with a shrug and that was strange. There was something else about T that through V off. Something V could never quite put his finger on. 

T had a secret. Whatever it was, it was guarded well. T was a wild card, and V hated that. V was no stranger to having secrets. He spent the last few years guarding his like they were his first born children, and they were the only children he would ever have. V spent years hiding them away, fearing detection. He knew someone with more to them than meets the eye. Where he hid his by not being noteworthy and hiding from focus, it seems T hid his behind the threat of death. Either way, V hated that sadist. 

The new duo entered the alleyway. S capturing their attention as soon as they were in earshot. 'The boy makes for a good distraction, at least.' Thought V, as he hung out farther back. His fingers twitched, and as he reached in his pocket for what felt like the 100th smoke of the night, his pack disappeared. He glared his eyes at the short thief who had his precious cloves captured between his thumb and pointer finger. Fury spiking through him as he moved to get up. He wasn't granted many things in this life, he wasn't about to let this demented clown take one of them away. 

He was about to stand and beat the shit out of the torture specialists smirking face, when a baritone voice chuckled and said, “No smoke around children. It make them dumb, like you.” A heavily accented voice said as V’s smoke was sliced in half. He hadn’t even seen the shorter man move. V reached for another but they were gone. He looked back at the black haired man and saw them in his fingers. V tried to act nonchalant. 

"It's not like they will kill him. . . or had you forgotten, we are all already dead." V bit back.

"Everyone already dead. It just about time." he teased, tossing the pack of smokes back to the darker clad man. T snickered and smiled a large, condescending smile at V. "I no see point Why smoke, if there no risk?" He didn't wait for and answer and walked over to the corpse laying in the mud created from the water that clung to her and the dirt that filled the tiny alley. 

V lit the clove and followed. The other three gathered around the girl, waiting for Verifier to confirm or deny her the right to redeem herself.   
####

You know how you always hear that one day you will stand before God and answer for every sin in your life? Today was not that day. No, today was the day that I lay here on the pavement of an alley that smelled like trash and have the salt water in my lungs slowly leak out of my mouth and nose, the resulting mud caked to my face and hair as it dries. Today was the day that I am unable to move and everything stopped working. Today is the day four freaks gather around and talk about me like I'm not even here and I can't open my mouth to stop them. Today is the day my body died. 

Freakishly enough, there was no soul separation. There were no pearly gates or fire waiting for me. There was nothing. It was just like any other moment except for the fact that I could no longer move my body.   
'Right, worst case scenario? I'm a quadriplegic. Best?' I thought about that for moment. 'Complete and total mental breakdown.' If I could sigh, I would have. My options were grim to null. I would have breathed in a breathe to center myself, much like I tend to do at work. However, I realize my lungs would not expand. I focus on that, and come to conclusion that my heart is not beating. I have been laying in this grimy alley for about fifteen minutes. My lungs and heart have not functioned. 

'I should be dead, but. . . I'm still conscious. What the fuck is going on!?!' I think, wanting to scream at the three men who have now gathered around me. All I can see are feet, as I am facing down. I try to recall as I feel the gaze of the people attached to the feet. I focus on what happened. My memory was hazy for the first few minutes after I was attacked. I remember a jarring movement. I remember my vision going for a bit, and I vaguely remember the taste of salt and the chill of water. I see dark shoes come into the peripheral of my vision.

A shoe moved to press itself into my shoulder. It shifted me, and with a final shove, it flipped me on my back and for the first time I was given a view of the faces of the two men who have come to join my detainer's. 'Yep, I have definitely died and this is some kind of hell.' I look up, not much else I can do right now, and the asian man with short black hair and steel grey eyes watched me. The man next to him has slicked back hair and piercing purple eyes. The purple eyed man looked down at me with very little emotion in his eyes. The sliver haired boy was curious and almost excited about something. 'Maybe he has a thing for dead people. Little young to have a fetish.' The dark man with red eyes looked familiar, but it was his smell that caught me. It was the same one that I smelled in the Last Circle. Clove. The scowling man with the grey eyes looked away for a second before he stepped away to lean against the wall. 

"We all ears, V." His eyes settled on me.

'Did he know I was awake?'

"Yes, stop wasting our time, determine her fate quickly." Said another man, I d\could not tell who.

'My fate?'

The pissed off darker man they referred to as V stepped over to my head. He knelt down to me an placed his hands on either side of my head. He shut his eyes, and as creepy as I thought it was, I felt the need to close mine. I found that I could. As my lids got heavier and began to close, I felt a jolt. It was weak and the sensation quickly left me. I began to close my eyes once more and the jolt came back. I waited for the feeling to leave me again. This time it stayed longer, but it was quickly gone. My eyes finally fell closed. It was dark and peaceful, and instead of wonder why I can move my eyelids but nothing else, I wished for this all to be over. I wished for this to be the end. I had felt so tired of it all. I had been hungry, and cold. I had been lonely for too long. I have been beaten and afraid more than I had been safe and happy. 

I felt another jolt, but I was comfortable in the darkness. This jolt, however, did not fade away like the others did. It lingered. I chose to ignore it as I drifted in the comforting realm of darkness. The jolt began to intensify. It felt like a tingling in my limbs, and a slight pressure behind the eyes. In a way it was like taking a nap in a stuffy room. Then, the feeling got stronger. My extremities began to feel like they were vibrating, and the pressure behind my eyes began to build at an alarming rate until it was almost unbearable. The feeling in my head made it feel like my skull was splitting open. I focused on my head, trying to determine what was happening to me. I began to feel something warm on either side of my head, the warmth turned to burning, and the burning intensified until I felt like my skin would melt. The pressure, the burning, and the tingling overwhelmed me. I lost any coherency I had. My screams died in my throat. The world tore itself apart around me, and I was left as nothing. In those moments I did not exist. It was the most terrifying thing I have ever experience. 

I felt one tear leak from the corner of my eye. It tracked down my face cooling anything it touched. It was a drop of rain in the desert, and it brought me back to myself. There was a presence in my head. The feeling of another watching me became very prominent, and all I could do is the one thing that made no sense in this situation. I turned my focus to the immaterial invader, and made myself very clear. I focused all my feeling and thought one this one sentence, and allowed my entire being to be consumed by it. One thought was all I had, but it was enough.

‘Stop the pain.'

The presence quickly retracted and I was left dealing with the after math of the pain. In the darkness, I broke. Unable to see. Unable to move. Unable to think about anything other than the fact that I will not die. There was too much left to do. There was too much I had put off. I wasn't. . . I wasn't ready. Not yet. Not now. 

As the darkness began to clear, the pressure became less evident. My mind began to clear. I heard voices, first as whispers then as if I was next to them.

“So, tell us, V. Have you wasted our time?"

"Shame, girl seemed talented to survive this place."

"Aww, does this mean that we will miss our deadline? Sariel will be so mad."

There was a pause, and the labored breath of a man above me. The pressure on the sides of my head dissipated, as well as the warmth, and a voice cut through the complaints.

"She passed. Nya Seven is verified and recruited by the Order"

There was a small sigh of relief from the boy, as well as a chuckle from someone else and the people shifted around me. My eyes remained closed, my body felt like something important had been ripped from my guts. All I wanted to do was to escape this. I couldn't move, though. I was so tired. I felt someone haul me up and throw me over their shoulder, as I tried my best to stay alert. The pull of the darkness had become too strong. I felt myself drifting. I could no longer seem to care what they were talking about. I felt my muscles relax and I was asleep before they even exited the alleyway. 

This had been a very strange day.


	4. Chapter 4

The darkness cleared, and the haze began to dissipate as I blinked the sleep from my eyes. It took a moment for things to come into focus and I realized I was no longer in the alleyway. The people around me right now, were not the ones I last saw in the dark. They were clad in white smocks. I tried to move my head to get a better look at the people around me, but I found that I could not move.

The alleyway came rushing back to me. I was paralyzed. I could not move. I was not breathing. My body was dead. I stared up at the ceiling of the room. It was a miT of geometric shapes and different shades of grey. The only point of light was the fixtures that glowed bright in the middle of the ceiling. The grey ceiling transitioned to stark white walls. The rest of the room was outside of my view. There was nothing left for me to do but wait.

'I hate waiting' I let the minutes tick by. My circumstances did not change, and I remained laying down staring at the ceiling. I could hear a clock ticking in the distance. The methodical tick of the mechanism lulled me into an almost meditative state. There were so many questions I wanted to ask. There were only so many things I wanted to check out, but I could do none of it. I waited. An hour passed by and there had yet to be anyone come and check on me. 2 hours, and still no one took notice of my existence. Just before hour 3 came, a taller man walked up to my bedside. 

The man was late thirties with defined cheekbones and there was the faint wisp of white whiskers across his chin. His pale blue eyes gazed down at me; there was a look of sympathy in them. The man picked up my chart and flipped a few pages. I don’t believe he was actually reading, as he flipped the chart far too fast to actually be looking for anything. He immediately put the clip board down and his eyes settled on me. He offered a smile. 

“Welcome. There is no need to be alarmed. You are at the processing bay of Ordinem LuT. We will make you well again, you need only trust us.” He says in the most calming voice he could muster. The smile never left his face. The skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkled slightly as he tried to reassure me. If I could have spoken, I would have asked the thousands of questions going through my head. I would have demanded to know his name, what I was doing here, who were the men in that alleyway, and what was I doing inside the most holy temple in the world. However, I did not get the chance. 

The slightly older man turned his head to look past my feet, assuming I still had feet. There was no noise or knocking, but there was something that captured the man’s attention. The presumed doctor’s smile faded and was replaced by a grimace. He huffed and quickly nodded to whatever was at my feet. He composed himself once more and looked back down at me. His smile back to where it was, as if that nonverbal interlude had never happened. 

“Well, I can say with absolute certainty,”

‘Which means he doesn’t believe a word he is about to say’

“That you are a very lucky girl. All of your damage will be repaired by sacrifice.” He broadened his smile. It was as if he was giving dying man water. There was no malice in it. Unfortunately, I caught the small turn down at the very corners of his mouth and it set me on edge.

‘Sacrifice?’

As if the doctor knew what I was thinking, he continued. “A sacrificial healing is when one of the Ordinem Lux Masters gives you their life force. It is incredibly painful for them, and once the transfer is complete, they can never get it back. Consider it like a blood transfusion, but instead of the donor’s body replenishing the loss in a few days, the Lux Master will forever be weakened by the sacrifice. It is truly a rare thing. I guess, what I am trying to say is that someone thinks you are special and they want to get you back up on your feet no matter the cost.”

‘Back on my feet? Does he mean that I will be able to move again?’ I feel a tear leak from my eye at the thought of regaining my movement. The middle aged angel of a man smiled at me. He must sense my gratitude. He patted my shoulder, even though I could not move and looked past my feet again. He nodded at the ghost in the room. I heard the faint swish of fabric moving as someone rounded the table to stand in the area I could see. 

As the person came into the peripherals of my vision, I anticipated the older white haired bearded version of a gracious god, I was met with a young man. He could not have been older than me, and much like the older man who was treating me, he had white hair that was stick straight and the fiercest blue eyes I had ever seen. The combination of these features, paired with the sharp cheekbones and narrow nose made him look like a very severe person. Then, the young man smiled. If my heart were beating, it would have stopped. It was truly the most beautiful thing I had ever beheld. It was like looking at an angel. 

His pink rose petal lips curled up at the corners and he looked down at me. His steel blue eyes met mine. There was a moment, his eyes searching me, evaluating me. He blinked after a second.

“I think it is time to get you up and about, don’t you agree?” His lip twitched, as if he was making a joke. I wanted to smile back and laugh, but I was still unable. “I am going to ask you to be very still, and understand that this will cause me a great deal of pain. I do not want you to be concerned, and focus on your body being well again. Find a clear picture in your head of you perfectly healthy, and hold onto it.” He leaned down, and the ghost of his breath moved the hairs across my face. I think I was blushing. There was something about this man. He was so mesmerizing. I stared at the wispy white hairs that fell from his shoulders as he leaned to put his face right next to mine. “I would hate for you to be only half healed after all this effort. Prove to me that you can be stronger than this.” He moved back up to look me in the eye. All pretenses were gone, and a stern face was what met me. I resolved that I would not let him down. I focused my mind on being stronger, pictured myself running faster and jumping higher. I closed my eyes and held on to those images for all that I could. 

There was murmuring above me and I tried not to let it break my concentration. After a few moments, I was about to open my eyes and figure out what they were doing, as nothing had yet begun. Just as I was opening my eyes, the voice of the doctor came through, and he spoke in cool, soothing tones. 

“We are about to begin now. Just relax and breath. There may be some discomfort, but the pain will purely be on Sariel’s end. A small measure may travel through the link. Please, do all that you can to focus. I hope you have an image in your mind. This can only be done once, and if the idea is unclear, your body will take all of the life force from the donor to heal you. This will kill Sariel and may still leave you paralyzed. The focus is crucial. Please, understand the risk he is taking for you and try your best.” He finished saying as positioned my limbs out beside me. I kept my eyes closed and concentrated on the image in my head. However, I also could not show away the small thought that kept slipping in. . . ‘He is risking his life for me.’

I began to feel a small tingle starting in my toes. It was not painful, but it spread as if a warm vibration radiating inward. It began to feel as if my body was vibrating hard enough to make my teeth chatter. I was lost in the sensation, until I heard someone scream “FOCUS” as if they were very far away. I was thrown back into awareness. I needed to focus. I would not be unworthy to that man after he had given me so much. I felt the vibration radiating through me and I began to redirect them to the parts of my body that were weak. I forced the sensation into my crushed larynx and any more major wound I knew was at my back and imagined the waves pushing the wound out and the flesh pushing itself back together. I let the vibrations massage the rest of my muscles, imagining the movement building them and shaping them. I heard a person talking in the distance, and the vibrations began to lessen. I gasped. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, air filled my lungs. It was sweet and cold, tinged with hospital smell and the best thing I have felt in the entirety of my life. The throb in my chest was painful and stiff, but definitely there. My eyes flew open and as I went to sit up, an arm caught me. 

“Take it easy, we need to make sure everything is gone before we let you move around freely.” Said the doctor, forcing me to lay back down. I hated it, having just had no choice when it came to horizontal or vertical body positions. I huffed. I remained on the table, but I turned my head to look at my ‘donor’. He was slumped on a chair in the corner; his hair was slightly out of place. He looked awful, like he was getting over a violent bout of sickness. He looked over at me, and pushed himself to his feet. He smiled at me, and my heart fluttered. He bowed stiffly, obviously in pain, then left. I was concerned, and about to question why I had to stay and the person obviously in need of attention left, but the doctor look at me and gave me a pitying smile. Through the reassurance that the test will take no time and I could be up soon, all I could think of was that last thing the man named Sariel said to me. ‘Prove to me that you are stronger than this’. I wondered. 

‘Is this proof enough?’

I didn’t get long to contemplate the idea, as the doctor came round and ran tests. By the end of it all I had been scanned, poked, pricked, and painted with every substance known to man, and some that weren’t. I smelled like hospital cleaner and old people in a way only a full exam can accomplish. It was tedious, knowing I could get up and move, and yet not being able to. After the full poking, they politely asked me to stand and they assessed my full range of motion. While I felt it would be glorious to stand the first time in a while, my legs were weak. They trembled beneath the weight of my body. A hand came out and steadied me. I turned to face the doctor.

“It may take a few days for you to regain full mobility. There will be muscle fatigue and you may experience some exhaustion. We will give you a supplement to help with those until your body has adjusted.” The doctor said, as he pulled out a vial of fluorescent green liquid. He loaded the tube into a syringe gun thing and pressed it up against my neck before I could even ask. The bolt let go and the liquid hit my blood with a whoosh from the gun. I clamped a hand over the prick and wheeled around on him. I used my other hand to push him away from me. I stood and came face to face with the older man. Sudden anger coursed through me.

“Who the hell do you think you are? Or rather, where in the hell am I and what the hell did you just inject me with?” I screamed at the top of my lungs and glared at the white haired doctor. He looked shocked for all of a second before he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked back at me. “Well, at least I know the serum is working. Follow me.” He said as he turned his back to me and walked toward the door. I looked around the room and decided that the best course of action would be to follow him, mainly because there were no windows in the room I was currently in to escape out of. 

He was waiting for me on the other side of the door. Once he saw that I had followed him, he motioned for me to continue walking. I proceeded in the direction he gestured toward; he joined me in sync with my steps. He did not look at me again and remained silent, as if pensively in thought. I cast my eyes forward, fighting the urge to look around but picking up the most key details out of my peripherals. We were in a hallway, possibly of some compound. The walls were made of concrete and the area was lit by artificial light. The faintest of echoes could be heard, but because of the material used in the construction of this place, I could not be sure that they came from any one direction. Mostly, they were the dull murmur of life in the background. I focused on them, wondering if anything would be made clear, when I heard the man sigh. I turned my attention to him.

“Sorry, about the sighing, I just. . . well, never mind. You asked who I was. I am H, full name Healer. It is my job to make it so that each passing candidate is up and about, basically I give each person their best chance at survival.”

“Survival?”

“Yes,” he said, as he came to a stop outside of a door. He placed his hand on the knob and opened it. Inside was a beautiful room, gilded crown molding, and ornate furniture greeted us. The walls were lined with book after book, each looked older than the last, and they stretch from floor to ceiling only coming to a stop at the glass dome that allowed the full moon to stream light down on the collection. He walked into the room and sat down on one of the chairs in the center of the room. The moonlight lit his white hair, creating almost a halo around his head, and his eyes washed out. He looked like a man who had the world on his shoulders. For a moment, I pitied him.

He gestured to the chair opposite him, and I felt there was no harm in complying. The scent of old parchment and glue greeted my nose, and in some way relaxed me. The chairs were separated by a clear pool at the center of the room. It was rimmed in a dark glass and the engravings silver in the purest silver I have ever beheld. The dim light of the room, being that the only light was the moon, prevented me from seeing the bottom. Everything about this room seemed to relax me. There may not have been many libraries in the Morass, but the stories I could get a hold of made me very happy. This room would have made me positively giddy, if the situation was different. I took a deep breath, trying to center myself, and I sat down. H continued. 

“I say survival loosely. Please understand, this is not news I give joyously. However, I need you to grasp the concept quickly.” He waited for me to nod before he continued. “Every being has a set amount of time, some more than others. The fact that remains is simply this. Everyone must die. And, you have.” He looked at me.


End file.
